Fools
by Halibel Lecter
Summary: It's April Fools' Day in Las Noches! But when someone takes their tricks a bit too far, what are the consequences?


Sexta Espada Grimmjow Jeagerjaques checked off the box on his calendar and checked his to-do list as he sat in bed, listening to the footfalls of people outside. This had been a productive day. He'd given a scathing report on why there was no need to revise the uniforms, they were just fine. He'd been by Nnoitra's room—or rather, his cell, due to his tenacious quest to get out—tried to strike up a conversation however unsuccessfully. Like it was his fault he'd broken his leg—okay, it was his fault, but still, he should forgive him for it. He only meant to cause a hairline fracture—not the compound break that meant he would be in agony for another six weeks. He went to sleep blissfully unaware of tomorrow's date…April 1st.

When Grimmjow woke up it wasn't to a blaring alarm clock. It was to his least-favorite song, "Hamster Dance", playing at the highest volume possible. He shot up in bed, to see that not only was he decorated with a shaving-cream bikini and handlebar moustache…but he'd also upset a giant bucket of water—_freezing_ water, as he soon discovered—that had been rigged directly over his head.

When, finally, The Drenched One had navigated the obstacle course/string trap formerly known as his room and changed, he was just getting ready to walk out the door when it occurred to him that there might be a second bucket waiting. So, Grimmjow pulled his Zanpaku-to from its sheath and was about to nudge the door open when he saw the blade. Pantera, his pride and joy, his only weapon, was…pink. Not coppery pink. Not faintly, subtly pink. PINK, screaming, yelling, Day-Glo hot pink…and, worst of all, it wouldn't rub off. In his total and complete grief, the poor soul staggered out the door to his quarters…and upset a second water bucket as the door shut behind him. _Freezing _water, of course.

From the morning's incident everything went downhill. His "pet" cat, the orange tabby that liked to follow him through the grounds, was unceremoniously booted from the room during a meeting. The cafeteria (read: Orihime) was serving Tuna-Noodle Surprise. He hated Tuna-Noodle Surprise, because when he tried to bite it, it bit back. After lunch, as he was walking out, Ulquiorra caught him and beat him bloody for trying to leave early—Lord Aizen's orders. The little punk. Ulquiorra knew they could leave whenever they wanted.

The sparring rooms were closed—or, more precisely, Ulquiorra and his deep-black reiatsu were occupying them. Same difference. And, besides all that, there were more pranks. By 2:00 p.m. he'd had water balloons thrown at him, extremely noticeable silver glitter thrown _on _him, a whoopee cushion had been on his chair at any and every possible time, and he'd discovered halfway through the aforesaid board meeting that there was gum—flaming red, tropical-punch flavored _gum_—in his hair. He had also, thanks to a random escapade by some newly-promoted Arrancar, been glued and feathered within an inch of his life. Grimmjow decided that he needed to escape. And, with any luck, he'd be able to do so…however embarrassingly.

Please give Nnoitra credit, he really did try not to laugh. But when Sexta Espada Grimmjow Jeagerjaques shows up at the door to your aforementioned room/prison cell, not only drenched but a mess of glue, glitter and feathers, and holding out a pair of googly-eye spring glasses like some sort of weird peace offering, and begging to be let in for the sake of all that is holy, it's kind of hard to keep a straight face.

"G…Grimmjow! What happened?"

"Let me in first." He quickly deactivated the traps he'd set for Szayel and allowed him to unlock the door and step in, and that was when the dam broke; he couldn't hold it in any longer. It started as a giggle and quickly graduated into a roar. When the laughter finally subsided, Nnoitra was doubled up on his bed with tears staining the front of his shirt, his crutches flung aside. Grimmjow had an expression on his face like a mixture of relief and devastation.

"It's not funny!"

"No…sorry." The conversation turned almost immediately. Nnoitra began politely asking questions—he looked tired, what had happened? Would he like to sit down? He could have his lunch, he didn't want it. Despite how much it looked like a cunning trap, Grimmjow sat down and was soon pessimistically devouring a plain baloney sandwich.

"So…what happened?"

"Everything. Apparently, nobody told me it was April Fool's Day."

Truly, he _looked_ as if everything had happened. Grimmjow's hair was matted with sticky red gum, there were feathers sticking out of his ears, and his quasi-shihakusho was completely out of order, to the point that one could plainly see his regulation-standard, black cotton boxer shorts underneath.

"Um…"

"Yeah, I know. Pathetic, isn't it? Sixth crying to fifth, and you're injured, too, but I didn't know where else to hide." He sheepishly lowered his head. "I shouldn't be bothering you. I'll just…get out of here." He stood to go.

"No." Nnoitra pulled him back down onto the bed, tugging his hand until he was sitting back down next to him. Grimmjow cocked an eyebrow.

"What is it?"

"It's just…well…those pranks were kind of mean."

"Really." He said sarcastically, "Do tell. It's not that they were dangerous…"

"But they were cruel," he finished. "Cruel…and…they really…hurt you. They were too cruel."

"And…" Grimmjow pulled his Zanpaku-to from its scabbard for him to see. "The pranks on _me_ were bad enough. But look at what they did to Pantera! They should know better than that…" he stared sadly at the sword, his eyes soft and hurt. Nnoitra could almost see the tearing and the ripping-apart it was causing, all these things at once.

He was shaking. Grimmjow, who never faltered, who was always ready for battle. It had been too much—he sadly realized that April 1st was the one-year anniversary of his becoming an Arrancar, the day he'd remember that terrible pain. His eyes shut, and he slowly sagged down. He could almost feel the pain in his shoulders as the muscles tried to loosen, to no avail.

This was it. There was something that needed saying, and apparently, even though his mind was against it Nnoitra couldn't stop himself. He pushed Grimmjow down so that he lay sprawled across the bed, carefully curling up beside him. The Espada barely opened his eyes.

"Uh…Grimmjow…I was the one who did all that. I called in a bunch of favors to get back at you for…" he trailed off, unable to answer himself. For what? For hurting him…was that all? He and Ulquiorra sparred every day, he and Tesla, he and Stark; he'd fought with every Arrancar for sport and for training, including Grimmjow a few times. It had never bothered him, even when he'd been in terrible near-death trouble. What was it about Grimmjow that all of a sudden, he felt so terrible when he hurt him? "I didn't know that it would get out of hand. I'm sorry."

He was looking up at him, the fact not seeming to register. He felt terrible—what was the big deal? He should be happy; he'd gotten back at him. Instead, it only hurt.

"I…could feel it too; I bet if I fell on this leg then…the pain would come close…" he knew it wouldn't, and it was a lousy way to make it up. "I could try it…a couple times. I'm so sorry Grimmjow. I'll do it, I'll at least hurt too."

He began to get up, but Grimmjow slipped his hands around his waist. Nnoitra, however, lost his balance and slipped, landing on the leg he'd broken. As he helped him up and turned so that they were both lying on the bed, Nnoitra pinned against the wall, the Espada bit his lip so hard it bled. He tried to smile at him. "I…I didn't even come close…sorry…" Grimmjow stared intently at his face, unnervingly watching his eyes as they clouded with pain.

"Don't move," Grimmjow stated, his hand flicking out to push Nnoitra back onto the bed. "Don't move, and don't do that again. Why do you think I want you to hurt?…I hurt you…but…" He stopped. "Just please tell me why you got so angry with me. I was just sparring with you. We've both done worse to each other. What did I do, that made you do this?"

Nnoitra sighed. With his face buried in the he sheets, he didn't have to look at him, but he could feel Grimmjow watching. "…I don't know." He couldn't think of a single reason. He could remember clearly how irritated he'd been by the time he agreed to spar with him that day, even though his schedule was clear as glass. Why had he resisted? "What about you? Why did you just _have_ to spar with me, huh?"

"What about _you_?" Grimmjow asked. "Why wouldn't you spar with me until I pestered you to death? You usually love to fight."

"I…" His face colored. "I didn't want to."

Grimmjow's eyes flickered over to his. "I was just thinking…"

"What?"

"It seemed, I don't know, wrong somehow. For me to fight you. Like I shouldn't be trying to hurt you…" He looked over at him again. "Like I should never hurt you. I don't know why. I didn't even register it until we were fighting. But I couldn't concentrate—I never meant to break your leg like that. I meant to slam you back, get you to stop the fight so I could go think. I planned on a small crack if anything. I can't tell you how sorry I am. I shouldn't have even let you talk me into it…"

His words stabbed at Nnoitra. He couldn't imagine this unexplained truth being very true indeed…that both of them wanted this…peace. That it felt _wrong_ to fight with Grimmjow, and that he felt the same way. _Remorse_…

He felt the pain ricochet through his leg again as he whacked his heel against the wall. He was so _stupid_! It was the least he deserved. How could he have ignored this? How could he have hurt him like this? His beautiful uke—if only sometimes—that he always spoke to, always made sure to give only his good side. He'd hurt him so bad, cut him so deep...

"Grimmjow—" his heel hit again. The pain made him gasp. "I'm so sorry—please… forgive me—" He yelped as he was quickly yanked back from the wall and pinned, Grimmjow's arms keeping him flat on his back in the middle of the bed. "Wh-what…?"

"Don't you get it? I don't want you hurt. I can't stand for you to feel pain. Stop it." Grimmjow stared down into his eyes, Nnoitra's hands resting across his back and gently stroking out the knots their conversation had tied. "Nnoitra—I think I…I think…I love you. And I want you to heal. You're…making yourself worse."

He searched his face for any hint of an answer. Instead, Nnoitra leaned up and kissed him.

"I love you, too," he smiled against his lips.

Grimmjow sighed, and gently ruffled Nnoitra's hair. Within a few minutes, both Espada were sound asleep.

~::~

Done! Finally! My first shonen-ai fic for Las Noches. What do you think?


End file.
